


Manners

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-26
Updated: 1999-09-26
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Can Ray K. get Fraser to do something unseemly?





	Manners

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Manners

 

 

This is a PWP featuring the characters Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski  
from the television series _Due South_. No spoilers I can think  
of, but it does assume an existing sexual relationship between them.  
No redeeming social value either, just good clean smut. This isn't exactly  
a response to the masturbation challenge but I suppose it *could* count  
if you stretch the definition a little. . .  
  
Rated NC-17 for graphic sexuality (M/M). If  
you're considered a minor in your community please do not read this .  
If you're narrow-minded, easily offended, or have something against Chicago  
Flatfoots with Experimental Hair, you may want to take a pass as well.  
Characters property of Alliance, yadda, yadda, yadda. Everything else  
is my own smutty intellectual property.  
  
Thanks to Judi H. for a truly inspirational picture, and to Betty and  
Audra for Beta.  
  


* * *

  
  


  
**Manners**  
c. 1999, Kellie Matthews  


  
        "Hey, Huey!"  
Ray yelled, waving the file he'd snagged off the other man's desk. "I  
got the Morelli file."  
          
Huey waved distractedly back, returning to his phone call as Ray headed  
for his desk, with Fraser right behind him. He'd just sat down when  
Fraser spoke.  
        "You  
know, Ray, that's generally considered to be rather rude."  
        Ray  
looked up, wondering what Fraser was chiding him about this time. "What  
is, Frase?"  
        "Taking  
things without asking, not to mention interrupting his conversation."  
        Ray rolled his eyes.  
"Yes, Mom." The Mountie had been kind of pissy for days now  
and it was starting to wear. Well, as pissy as he ever got. Which translated  
to excessively fussy. Which really got on Ray's nerves.  
        "It  
only takes a moment to be considerate," Ben said earnestly.  
        "Yeah, yeah,"  
Ray grumbled, wondering why people always said 'not to mention' and then  
turned around and mentioned it. Whatever 'it' was.  
        Fraser  
sighed faintly. Ray felt a flush in his face, and scowled. The Mountie  
was the only person who could make him feel like a naughty eight-year-old.  
Okay, almost the only person, besides his mom, his dad, and Stella.  
Jesus. What the hell did that mean?  
        "Okay,  
fine," he muttered. "I'm sorry. I'll apologize to Huey tomorrow,  
okay?"  
        Fraser  
looked pleased, and nodded. Ray settled back in his chair and propped  
his feet on the desk, then caught Fraser's frown and quickly shifted  
them off again. It was getting to where he couldn't even be comfortable  
at his own desk. This was not good, not right. But there wasn't anything  
he could do about it. Somehow he didn't think complaining about Fraser  
telling him he was uncouth was going to carry much weight.  
        He  
wondered if Fraser ever did anything that could be considered even slightly  
rude. He couldn't think of a single incident. Not even in bed. Well,  
except maybe that time at the Consulate when he'd made that comment about  
using the can, or rather, 'taking the opportunity to urinate' but even  
that hadn't really been rude, just . . . blunt. That realization irked  
him. It challenged him. And Ray never could resist a challenge.  
        He flipped through the  
file he held, not seeing it, mostly thinking. How the hell was he going  
to get Benton Fraser, Mr. Perfect Mountie, to do something rude? What  
sorts of rude things were there that were pretty hard not to do? Well,  
there was always. . . what had Fraser called it. . . oh yeah, flatulence.  
Except from what he could tell, Fraser had a cast-iron stomach and could  
eat pretty much anything without effect. Even the chili his mom had  
made from her Arizona recipe. So that was out. Damn. He'd have to  
work on it. There had to be something.  
        "Ray?"  
        He jumped, startled,  
and looked up. "Hunh?"  
        "You're  
holding the file upside down."  
        He  
looked down. Fraser was right. Somehow he managed to keep his face solemn.  
"Yeah, it's a new technique. Learned it at a symposium. Subconscious  
information absorption."  
        Fraser's  
lips twitched. Ray felt his own mouth curve a little in response.  
        "That's a very interesting  
method," Fraser said smoothly. "Perhaps you could give me  
instruction on it some time, in a spirit of, ah. . ." his voice  
lowered slightly, roughened, ". . . interdepartmental cooperation,  
as it were."  
        Interdepartmental  
cooperation? Now why did that sound so damned suggestive all the sudden?  
Oh yeah, Ray thought, he could use a little of that himself. He looked  
up at Fraser and winked. "Sure thing, Frase. I'll just interdepartmentally  
cooperate my ass off. Anytime. Anyplace. You name it, I'm there."  
        Color flooded Fraser's  
face and his hand lifted, tugging at the stiff collar of his tunic as  
he cracked his neck sharply. Ray grinned. Gotcha. He glanced at his  
watch. Forty-six minutes past quitting time. He was aghast. How had  
it gotten so late without him noticing? What the hell were they still  
doing in the bullpen on their first free night in a week? He shot to  
his feet, rubbing his neck.  
        "Hey,  
time to head for home, Fraser. Want a ride?"  
        "That  
would be very kind . . ." Fraser began.  
        "Great."  
Ray cut him off. "What'cha standing around for then? Let's go."  
        Ray headed for the doors,  
reached out to open one a fraction of a second behind Fraser's identical  
gesture, and managed to smack his hand into the opening door, not hard  
enough to really hurt, but enough to sting. "Ow! Watch it there,  
Fraser."  
        "I'm  
terribly sorry, Ray. If you'll let me . . ."  
        With  
a look of concern, he took Ray's hand, lifted it, examining his fingers.  
Ray was instantly distracted by the feeling of Fraser's hand against  
his own. For a moment his touch was firm and impersonal, but then his  
thumb stroked across Ray's palm as he turned the injury toward the light  
to examine it more closely. The caress went straight to Ray's groin,  
and he had to suppress a shiver. Disconcerted, he snatched his hand  
back, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately no one  
seemed to have, and his jacket was long enough to hide his sudden erection.  
        "It's fine, it's  
nothin'," he muttered, pushing on through the door, in the lead  
once more.  
        Reaching  
the car, he pulled out his keys to unlock the passenger door and promptly  
dropped them. He leaned over to pick them up and smacked his head into  
Fraser's as the other man bent to retrieve them too. The hat fell off,  
and Ray managed to catch it before it hit the ground. They both straightened,  
Ray holding the hat in one hand, rubbing his head with the other. Ben  
held his keys, and his hair was sticking up all funny from the way the  
hat had come off. Ray grinned.  
        "Leave  
the experimental hair to me, Fraser. It doesn't suit you," he said,  
reaching over to smooth down the errant strands. A tingle started in  
his fingertips, suffused his palm, traveled up his arm and in short order  
seemed to be spreading over his entire body. He started to lean forward,  
to seal his mouth over those luscious lips . . . not in the parking lot,  
idiot. Not in the damned parking lot. Quickly he removed his hand from  
the soft, dark waves of Fraser's hair and snatched his keys from Fraser's  
hand, thrusting the Stetson at his partner.  
        "Here.  
I saved The Hat, sacredness intact an' all."  
        A  
smile, a real smile, curved Fraser's mouth as he accepted the hat back.  
"Thank you kindly, Ray."  
        The  
tingle turned into spring thaw, and Ray forced himself to look away.  
"No problem." He turned and unlocked the door with fingers  
that shook a little, then opened the door, smacking himself in the knee  
as he did. He winced, but managed not to yelp. Diefenbaker jumped into  
the car and squeezed between the seats into the back.  
        "Are  
you all right, Ray?"  
        "Yeah,  
yeah, I'm fine, Frase. Just, um, just. . . hungry."  
        There  
was a moment of silence, then Fraser spoke, a definite smile in his voice.  
"As am I Ray. Very hungry. In fact, I feel as if I haven't eaten  
in days. I could, as the saying goes, eat a horse."  
        Ray  
almost laughed out loud. Hey, that was verging on rude right there.  
Now there was something he hadn't tried. Could he get Mr. Straightlaced  
to talk dirty? Ray grinned. "So, wanna come back to my place for  
. . . dinner?"  
        "Yes,  
Ray. I'd like that very much," Fraser said without hesitation,  
his voice low, husky.  
        "Get  
in the car, Mountie," Ray ordered, just as huskily.  
        "Understood,"  
Fraser said, obediently sliding into the seat.  
        Ray  
grinned as he closed the door. Maybe they ought to abstain for a week  
more often, if it affected Fraser like this. Heck, maybe that was why  
he'd been so snarky lately. Apparently even SuperMountie was prey to  
sexual frustration. Wonders never ceased.

* * *  


  
        "Oh God, Ben!"  
Ray moaned, writhing under the determined assault of that butter-wouldn't-melt-in-it  
mouth. Wet, sleek tongue traveled around the edge of his ear, descended  
to suck at the lobe. Really, the man had an unnatural fixation with  
his ears, but he could do the most amazing things to them. Before he  
met Fraser, he would never have believed he could get this aroused just  
from having his ears licked and sucked.  
        "Ray,"  
Fraser breathed into his ear, soft, warm, low. "I want you."  
        Ray shivered, and  
almost gave in. Then he remembered. He was still on a quest. "What  
do you want, Ben?"  
        There  
was a pause. That response apparently wasn't in the script. Still,  
Fraser was good at improvisation. "I want to make love with you."  
        "How, Ben?"  
        Another pause. "I  
want to . . . ah . . . take you in my mouth."  
        "Take  
what part of me in your mouth?"  
        "Your  
. . . your . . ."  
        "Cock,  
Ben? Is that what you want? You want to suck my cock?"  
        Ben  
moaned, buried his face against Ray's shoulder, and nodded.  
        Ray  
was torn between laughter and arousal. "Tell me."  
        "I  
want to . . ."  
        "You  
want to suck my cock."  
        Quiet  
again. Finally, "Ray, I can't . . ."  
        "You  
can. Tell me. It turns me on. I want to hear you say it."  
        Pause. "It excites  
you?"  
        "Yeah."  
        "Oh." Another  
pause. After a moment Ben's hand slid down Ray's chest to cup the hard  
thrust of his penis as his head lifted from the curve of his shoulder,  
lips brushing Ray's ear again, tongue stealing out to flicker wetly against  
the convolutions as he drew in a breath, then spoke. "Ray, I want  
to suck your cock," he whispered, sultry, and low.  
        Under  
that warm, broad hand his penis jerked with reaction. He sensed that  
Ben was processing his reaction, felt that tongue slide over his ear  
again, then in that same sultry whisper he was talking.  
        "I  
want to feel you in my mouth, thick, and hard, skin like hot silk. I  
want to smell you. I want to taste you."  
        Whoa.  
Ray had to bite his tongue, hard, to keep from coming right then, even  
though Ben had yet to even really stroke him. Script now rewritten.  
How far would he take it? He was about to speak when Ben's mouth moved  
from his ear, came down over his. Not kissing. Talking. Against his  
lips.  
        "I want  
to feel your mouth on me, on my cock."  
        Ray  
thought he might faint. That mouth, saying those things. The hell with  
rude. He didn't care, just wanted more of this. He wondered dizzily  
if anyone ever got off just from being talked to. Ben's hand abandoned  
Ray's cock, found one of his hands, curved around it, moved it down to  
his groin, urging his fingers around his own penis.  
        "I  
want to watch you."  
        Wait.  
That wasn't in Ray's script. He opened his eyes, looked into Ben's eyes,  
the pupils so dilated there was only a faint ring of smoky blue around  
them. His lips were parted, his breathing quick, almost panting.  
        "You wanna watch  
me what?"  
        Ben's  
hand urged his into a long, slow stroke, dark lashes shuttering suddenly-shy  
eyes. "I want to watch you touch yourself. . . pleasure yourself."  
His voice was a whisper again, no longer sultry, longing.  
        Wow.  
Fraser had jerk-off fantasies? Who knew? Ray felt his mouth curving  
in a grin. "Yeah?" He took the initiative, starting a leisurely  
rhythm. "Like this?"  
        He  
could almost feel Ben's gaze on him, felt the tremor in the hand that  
still covered his. "Yes. Almost."  
        "What  
would make it better?"  
        Ben  
closed his eyes. "If you . . . knelt. So I could. . ." A  
blush darkened that snow-pale skin.  
        Ray  
could think of a lot of things he 'could,' and not one of them sounded  
bad to him. He let go of himself and rolled to his knees on the rumpled  
bed, sitting back on his haunches, thighs spread wide to improve the  
view. He wrapped his fingers around his cock again, teased himself with  
half-strokes and a thumb across the head.  
        "Like  
this?"  
        Ben nodded,  
gaze fixed avidly on his hand, on his dick, tongue flickering across  
his lower lip, then curling upward to swipe across upper. Very nice.  
Made Ray think of that tongue on his cock, like it always did. Made  
him think about those so-sweet lips on him, the wet heat of that mouth  
surrounding him. He stroked a little faster, wishing he could do both--  
touch himself for Ben, and have that mouth on him too. Oh wait. . .  
maybe he could.  
        "You  
still wanna taste?" he asked, a little shocked at the ragged sound  
of his own voice.  
        Ben  
shivered visibly. "Yes."  
        "Go  
for it," Ray said, sliding his hand down to the base, leaving room.  
        Ben licked his lips again,  
considered the situation. He reached behind Ray to grab a pillow which  
he bunched between Ray's thighs, then he was on his back there, head  
and shoulders raised by the pillow, head tilted back, mouth open, looking  
like something out of a porn flick, insanely erotic. How the hell was  
this supposed to work, though? He'd expected Ben on his front, not his  
back, and actively participating, not just lying there. Like this he'd  
have to . . . oh. Oooh. Like that? Really?  
        Ray  
shifted forward a little, used a little pressure to angle himself down,  
felt good actually. Ben tilted his head back a little more, and then  
he was there, the ultra-sensitive crown of his cock grazing that flat,  
wet tongue, which curled upward to lick him in a way that made him shudder.  
Oh yeah. Yeah this would work. Good thing he was pretty long or it  
wouldn't. He stroked again. Again. Ben's eyes were open, watching  
him from just inches away, mouth and tongue working him on every downstroke.  
Ben shifted a little, lifting a hand over his head, cupping Ray's balls,  
playing with them. Ray moaned, closing his eyes, pumping himself harder,  
his hand tight around his cock, forgetting to angle down. He gasped  
at the touch of hot, wet tongue on his balls, at fingers sliding back  
between his cheeks to tease him there. He moaned, fisting fast now,  
so close . . . so close. . .  
        "Ray  
. . ." husky, throaty voice, vibrating maddeningly against aroused  
flesh. "I want you to come in my m . . ."  
        An  
animalistic groan tore from his throat as he lost it then, the feel of  
Ben's voice and the shock of that request sending him over the edge.  
He heard himself whimpering as the liquid pleasure rose through him and  
escaped in thick streams, and he tried to do what Ben had asked, but  
he missed with at least half of it. Geez, he could tell it had been  
a week since he'd come, from the amount of it on Ben's face. Chin.  
Lips. Tongue. Cheek. The damned stuff was everywhere. Still panting  
a little, he sheepishly grabbed the corner of a sheet and went to wipe  
away the ropy strings of come, only to have Ben grab his wrist in one  
hand, preventing it. He licked his lips, curling his tongue to cup the  
thick whiteness, then lifting to scrape against his teeth, as if testing  
the texture as well as the taste. Then he swallowed.  
        "Ray  
. . ." he said, the word raw and dark. "I need to fuck you,"  
he finished, then reached up to haul Ray down into a kiss that was slippery  
and salt-bitter and thick and just as shockingly seductive as the word  
he'd never thought to hear Fraser use. Definitely rewrote the script  
for him.  
        He kissed  
back, licking, bathing Ben's face with his tongue. It was his mess,  
after all, he might as well clean it up. At that Ben growled against  
him, pushing him away, rolling him onto his belly with a wrestler's practiced  
flip, kneeing his thighs apart and pinning him there with his hips against  
his ass and a hand on his neck. He heard the phone hit the floor with  
a rattling clang and knew Ben was scrabbling one-handed for the lubricant  
on the nightstand. He grinned into the sheets and shifted his thighs  
further apart just as a drizzle of cool wetness slid into the valley  
between his buttocks, followed a moment later by thick fingers massaging  
across the small opening there, then they were penetrating him almost  
roughly, working that cool slick stuff up inside him.  
        He  
groaned, half in discomfort from the abrupt insertion, half in pleasure  
as those fingers stroked up inside him, locating that place that felt  
so damned good. God, so good. He rocked back onto that incursion, taking  
them deeper, feeling them slide more easily into him as he relaxed and  
accepted them. Stroke, stretch, twist, stroke. He moaned, jerking involuntarily  
in response, then he managed to get his knees up under him and pushed  
up onto all fours, offering himself blatantly.  
        Growl  
again, and the fingers were gone. A hand gripped his hip, hard, holding  
him still, and the broad, blunt shaft was against him. He pushed back,  
welcoming the intrusion, and a dual groan split the silence as Ben breached  
him, forging past the tight ring of muscle at the entrance and sliding  
deep in a single harsh thrust. Hands on both hips now, giving more power  
to each thrust, nothing gentle about this time, just heat, and hardness  
and need. Amazingly, he was getting hard again as the constant stimulation  
revived his erection. Everything just felt so good, the spreading heat  
building, the tautness, the need growing with each stroke inside him,  
against that pleasure-point there.  
        Suddenly  
Ben groaned, shoving deep, like he was trying to climb all the way inside  
him, and his body was shaking, and there was more heat flooding up into  
him. Yeah. Oh yeah. He loved that feeling, the sweet power of knowing  
he could make Ben lose his mind with pleasure. Ben sagged against him,  
breathing so hard and fast it was almost sobs. Ray let his weight press  
both of them down, sandwiched between Mountie and mattress, happily so,  
his erection fading a little.  
        There  
were lips against the back of his neck then, soft, and gentle, stark  
contrast to the hard, harsh fucking of moments earlier. Lips that moved  
up his neck to his ear, licking as Ben carefully withdrew from him, one  
hand stroking his buttocks possessively, almost like he was saying "These  
are mine." Which they were. Ray had never let anyone else do the  
things to him that he let Ben do. Couldn't imagine ever letting anyone  
but Ben do them.  
        Then  
suddenly that warm weight was gone, and Ben was twisting around and slipping  
a hand under his hip to push him over onto his back. A hand cupped his  
half-hard cock, lifting it, and warm lips closed around it, sucking,  
tongue stroking. He sighed, languid, un-urgent pleasure permeating him.  
He reached down and caressed the thick sable waves of Ben's hair, slid  
his fingers down his cheek to his mouth, feeling the way his lips stretched  
around his hardening cock, the flex of jaw muscles as he opened his mouth  
wider to accommodate him. Nice. He made a little purring sound to let  
Ben know he appreciated it, even if he probably wouldn't come.  
        Ben  
echoed the sound, in his throat, his lips. Ray arched as the vibration  
aroused him even more. Then a hand was sliding under his butt, fingers  
working between his cheeks and sliding easily up into him again, curling  
forward to stroke his prostate. Ray gasped, shuddering a little at the  
combined stimulus. Okay, maybe he was wrong about not coming. Fingers,  
mouth, wow. . .  
        "Ben?"  
        "Mmmm?"  
        The question was hummed  
around him. He moaned. He had to do that to Fraser one of these times.  
What was he. . . oh, yeah. "I love you."  
        He  
felt the smile, and Ben looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Without  
releasing him from his mouth, he said something, totally unintelligible,  
of course, but understandable just the same. Ray's eyes squeezed closed  
and his head tipped back as stars exploded behind his eyelids and a slow,  
enervated orgasm pulsed through him. Fraser finally released him, and  
slid up alongside him, pulling him close. They lay that way for some  
time, quiet, content. Ray let the memories of the last few minutes play  
out, still amazed by pretty much all of it, then suddenly he grinned.  
        "Hey, Fraser."  
        "Yes, Ray?"  
        "It's not nice to  
talk with your mouth full."  
        There  
was a moment of silence, then he felt as well as heard the laughter rumble  
up from somewhere very deep inside his partner, and that mouth was on  
his, and definitely not talking.

* * Finis * *  


* * *

  
Comments to: Kellie


End file.
